


I Will Find Any Way To Your Wild Heart

by QueenTheatrics



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, K so it's a bit angstier than I set out for it to be lmao, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 15:57:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13791114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenTheatrics/pseuds/QueenTheatrics
Summary: "You want me to do what now?" Adam says."I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend." Ronan replies.





	I Will Find Any Way To Your Wild Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rxpunzels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rxpunzels/gifts).



> for danbam who yelled this at me and probs didn't expect me to actually deliver lmao cause am a flaky binch

“You want me to do _what_ now?” Adam says, folding his arms, dark eyebrows reaching new heights and disappearing into his hair. Ronan rolls his eyes, but there’s a flush creeping up his neck. They’re in Adam’s room at St Agnes’s, studying—or rather, Adam is studying at his desk, and Ronan is being a thorough and unwavering nuisance behind his back. Adam had been forced to take a short break when Ronan’s latest paper aeroplane knocked a glass of water over a textbook, and now said textbook is lying open on the window ledge, being dried by the heat of the evening sun, and Adam is facing Ronan, arms folded, eyebrows raised, completely taken aback.  
“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.” Ronan repeats, scrubbing a hand over his short hair. He’s lounging on Adam’s bed like he owns the place, and he leans back, staring at the ceiling, leaning up to pull at a strip of loose wallpaper on the wall.  
“Stop that.” Adam snaps, and Ronan pauses, pulls his hand away leisurely. “Explain.”  
Adam has found that, sometimes, single word sentences are the only way to get a clear answer from Ronan.  
“Declan’s girlfriend is throwing a party.” Ronan begins. He says the word _party_ the way other people might say _funeral._ “I have to go. Declan _might_ have let slip that Ashley had a girl there to set me up with, so I _might_ have let slip that I had a boyfriend, name undisclosed thus far.” He waves a hand, and then looks unsure, suddenly, in a kind of mean way that only Ronan truly can. “If you can’t do it, I’m sure Gansey would. Or, hell, even Henry would probably love to spend a weeke—“  
“It’s fine, I’ll do it.” Adam interrupts, if only to get the image of Ronan and Henry pretending to be a couple out of his head. Ronan sits up.  
“Really?” Ronan sounds… almost excited. Adam doesn’t even want to contemplate what that might mean. He stands, skin suddenly too tight, and walks over to his textbook, which is almost dry.  
“Sure, I’m not working this weekend anyway.” He says, faux casual, He even throws in a shrug for good measure, to disguise the way his heart is thrumming and his palms are sweating. He sits down at the desk again, back to Ronan, and opens the textbook at the first non-water damaged page. “I’m not chipping in for gas, though.” He hears an amused snort behind him, and tries to get back to studying, but his mind keeps wandering and the words blur in front of his eyes.

The weekend comes around far too quickly for Adam’s taste. He hasn’t had the time to mentally prepare himself for all the new experiences about to be thrust upon him—Declan, Declan’s girlfriend, a fancy party, DC… he very deliberately doesn’t add _being Ronan’s boyfriend_ to his mental list, even though it’s pretty much numbers 1 through 6 already. After school on Friday, he climbs into Ronan’s car instead of getting on his bike, and they head back to Monmouth Manufacturing instead of back to St Agnes’s. It’s enough to throw Adam off already, and they haven’t even left Henrietta yet.

The drive to DC is quiet, but not tense. Ronan, for once, lets Adam control the music, and in a shocking display of good nature, Adam plays the murder squash song just to surprise Ronan (and see him smile). Ronan drives fast, but not as fast as he could, which Adam likes to think is a concession just for him, and every stop sign they blaze through takes them one step closer to DC.  
“Should we work out our story?” Adam says, when they’re halfway there. He’s messing around in the glove compartment, being nosy. He’s never had such an extended time in this car to snoop.  
Ronan shrugs, seemingly unbothered by Adam pawing through his personal belongings. “I’m irresistible.”  
Adam sits back, glaring at him.  
“It’s Declan we need to convince, Ronan.” Adam says. “You think that’s gonna fly?”  
Ronan lets a puff of air out between his lips and presses his foot to the accelerator. Adam is thrown flat against the headrest.  
“Can’t we just tell them to fuck off, it’s private?” Ronan says.  
“You asked me to do this,” Adam points out. “I shouldn’t be the one persuading you to make it convincing.”  
The argument that follows is short, but eventually Adam (almost) gets his way. Adam will tell people Ronan confessed his feelings six months ago, and Ronan will offer nothing in particular, and they’ll hope that no one asks for further details. It’s more than Adam expected to get from his friend, so he satisfies himself with the brief victory.

An hour later, they arrive at the hotel in DC where the party is taking place. It’s easily the biggest building Adam has ever seen, and he tries not to let his awe show as they walk into the lobby. The ceilings are high and everything is white. Adam keeps a tight grip on the handle of his bag in order to suppress the urge to touch. His hands are clean, but he can’t help but feel as if he’d leave a big black mark in his wake, everywhere his fingers touched. 

Ronan checks them in with the cool, easy confidence of someone who belongs. Adam watches, fascinated, as he adopts a facade, natural as breathing, and becomes _Mr Lynch, sir, enjoy your stay_ , rather than just plain old Ronan who swears too much and cuts the sleeves off all his t-shirts. He asks after his brother, with a grin that’s all teeth, and is told that Declan arrived an hour ago, with instructions for Ronan to come to his room once he’s settled in. The clerk hands over a card with Declan’s room number on it, and Ronan takes it between two fingers, and flicks it at Adam once they’re out of the sightline of the front desk. Adam catches it, shaking his head at Ronan. 

They’re on the second floor, but it’s the kind of fancy hotel that doesn’t have stairs, so they take the elevator up and soon find themselves outside of their hotel room. Ronan pushes the door open, throws his bag in carelessly, and then stops. Adam walks right into him.  
“Ah, fuck.” Ronan says, running a hand over his head. “I forgot Declan booked the room.”  
The room is large, airy and beautiful.  
The room also contains only one bed.  
There’s a sudden, weighted silence. Somehow, despite having agreed to be pretend boyfriends for an entire weekend, neither of them had contemplated the fact that Declan would assume they would be sharing a bed. Ronan has gone extremely still, and is avoiding Adam’s eye.  
“I can go book another room.” He says. “Or I’ll sleep in the bath, I’ve done it before.”  
Adam is filled with a sudden swell of affection for his friend. He looks genuinely worried, like he’s afraid Adam will just up and leave at the prospect of having to be near him, as if Ronan hadn’t spent the last few months getting increasingly well acquainted with Adam’s bedroom floor. As if he hadn’t spent night after night listening to Adam’s snores. As if Adam hadn’t witnessed his frequent nightmares, seen the consequences, and stuck around anyway. Ronan is an asshole, but he’s not a complete dick. He’s never really tried to push Adam into things he doesn’t want to do.  
“Shut up, Ronan,” Adam says, eventually. “The bed’s big enough. You’d better not hog the covers, though.”  
The corner of Ronan’s lip quirks up, and he steals into the bathroom to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

They get ready in a comfortable silence, and then head along to Declan’s room. The sun is setting as evening falls, and Adam can feel Ronan winding tighter beside him the closer they get to the room. They stand outside the door for a minute. Adam looks at Ronan, rolls his eyes, and knocks. Declan opens the door and looks the pair of them up and down.  
“Oh, hey, Adam.” He says, almost dismissively, and then, to Ronan, “So, where’s the guy?”  
Ronan gives his brother a pointed look. Declan raises his eyebrow, takes another glance at Adam, looking sceptical, but presses his lips together and says nothing. They’re invited inside to join a selection of Declan and Ashley’s friends for an exclusive pre-party, only for the most special and elite, or so Ronan mutters to Adam as they mingle. The pre-party then moves down to the main party, where Adam is overwhelmed by the sheer opulence of the hall. There’s about a million shrimp cocktails surrounded by about a billion glasses of champagne, and everyone is in sequins and satin and silk. The women have sleek updos and the men have neatly trimmed facial hair, and Adam is suddenly, painfully aware of every single one of his inadequacies. Thankfully, Ronan doesn’t notice Adam shrinking into himself, and snags him a glass of orange juice from a passing waiter.  
“Come on, let’s go offend the sensibilities of Declan’s fancy friends.” Ronan says, and Adam can’t refuse an offer like that. 

Ronan, though usually surly and rude at events involving his brother, seems to be in his element with Adam at his side. He pulls him from group to group, introducing himself and Adam as his boyfriend, collecting gasps and scowls and politely disinterested tuts. The goal is to scandalise, to offend, and with his leering grin and suggestive drawl, he does just that.  
“How’s it feel to be my side-piece, Parrish?” Ronan whispers in Adam’s good ear, an hour into his crusade. Adam wishes he could deny it, and begins to, but is distracted by the warmth of Ronan’s hand on the small of his back, the brush of his lips against his ear. He settles for making a disapproving _hmm_ noise in the back of his throat, and leaves it at that. Ronan’s face splits in a cheshire-cat grin, as he leads Adam over to meet more of Declan’s friends, secure in the knowledge that he can call Adam his side-piece without argument.

Despite the teasing, he’s surprisingly thoughtful, always making sure to stand on Adam’s good side and clarify things if Adam doesn’t hear. He stands close enough that Adam can feel the warmth of him through the layers of fabric that separate them. He calls Declan’s friends outrageous nicknames and makes Adam laugh, once so hard that Adam nearly coughs his amuse-bouche all over a passing waiter. It’s a surprisingly pleasant evening. It’s made even more pleasant, though Adam would never admit it, by the fact that he gets Ronan close and tactile all evening, and every glance, every smile, sends an electric shock straight down to his toes.

At the end of the night, after champagne and food give way to music and dancing, and then to cheek kisses and promises to meet for brunch, Ronan and Adam leave the hall and make their way back to the room. Adam grabs his toothbrush and pyjamas and heads to the bathroom to get ready for bed. To get ready to share a bed with Ronan.  
His reflection in the mirror looks wild and unfathomable, with spots of colour high on his cheeks and curling, tousled hair. He doesn’t bother to try and flatten it.  
When he leaves the bathroom, Ronan barrels past, and Adam is left alone in the room. Ronan has already claimed a side of the bed by throwing a bunch of crap on the bedside table and leaving a muddy shoe print on the sheets. Adam gives a derisive huff and climbs into the other side, and tries not to notice that Ronan had chosen the side he slept on when he slept on the floor at St Agnes’s.

Adam is falling asleep by the time Ronan comes out of the bathroom, so he barely notices the covers pull back, and the bed dip on the other side. Ronan murmurs a goodnight and Adam, blearily, replies. Once Ronan lies down, Adam is suddenly very awake. They both stay perfectly still, static humming in the air between them, but neither of them speak, afraid of breaking the silence. Eventually, Ronan’s breathing evens out, and Adam pulls the covers back and sits up.

He sits on the edge of the bed, the pale moonlight cutting slices across the skin of his back. He looks at the top of Ronan’s head, pillowed against crisp white sheets, at his chest rising and falling peacefully, for once. This isn’t the first time he’s watched Ronan asleep. He knows it won’t be the last. But this Ronan, amongst the opulence of high society, is different than the Ronan who sleeps on the dank, hard floor of St Agnes, with his jacket as a pillow and his dreams for constant company. Adam looks, and lets himself look, because normally he’s stealing glances for fear Ronan will wake up. He stands, walks over to the window to look out at the full moon. He listens to the sound of Ronan breathing, deep and steady, rhythmic in a way that mocks his frantically beating heart. He had had a great night, full of nonsense and laughter and whispered jokes and dancing, but now all he can think about is the flush on Ronan’s neck when he’d pulled him close to dance, the flutter of his eyelashes when he’d leaned in to whisper back, the hitch in his laughter when something had hit too close to home. Adam has never wanted more than to reach out and touch. It’s been so long, and he still can’t fathom the complexities of his friend Ronan Lynch.

Because Ronan is brash and Ronan is mean but Ronan still brought him lotion for hands cracked by hard work, still listened to his crap when he chose to share it, still spent hours lounging on his bed at St Agnes’s when Adam couldn’t even give him the time of day. He’s well aware of how Ronan feels.  
Ronan is nothing but careful with his affections but Adam still feels like he’s made a mistake, because Ronan never takes more than Adam is willing to give, but Ronan doesn't know that Adam would give him everything he had if only he could find the way.  
Adam is learning to fit in with Ronan’s world, but he still has hair the colour of dirt and an accent he has to suppress, and cracked hands from manual labour people like Gansey have never had to do.  
And, if he’s honest with himself—and Adam is only, ever, honest with himself, because it makes it that much easier to be dishonest with others—at the heart of it, he never ever thought he could be worthy of loving Ronan Lynch.

“Come back to bed, Adam.” Ronan murmurs, suddenly. Adam looks back, sees Ronan leaning up on one arm, a look on his face Adam can’t quite read. Adam goes, but when he climbs in between crisp, clean sheets, the distance between them has never felt greater.


End file.
